


desire and unrest

by kenopsia (indie)



Category: Crooked Media RPF
Genre: Aces sexing, Asexuality, Communication, Composing erotica as a love language, Long Distance Relationships, M/M, Occasionally dirty communication, and also when lovett acquired a puppo, intentional timeline creativity in terms of real life departures from dc, with no Farrow involvement
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-24
Updated: 2019-04-24
Packaged: 2020-01-12 10:00:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18444260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indie/pseuds/kenopsia
Summary: my warm stomach is your warm stomachLovett tapped out. Ronan's response was immediate, despite the time difference.I love our communal stomach.





	desire and unrest

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LiterallyLen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiterallyLen/gifts).



> _I will love her though, being yet worthy of it, by going away she changes my earth into desire and unrest..._ Seven Types of Ambiguity, Empson.
> 
> For Madzie, who let a girl have a lot of space in that prompt. I hope this scratches a rolo itch. <3
> 
> ALSO i forgot to mention that I did some timeline heckery with the leaving dc timeline for Ronan and also dog timeline heckery that let Lovett acquire P after he gets to LA but not through the Farrows, because I wanted her to be present so Lovett wasn’t alone in LA. Oops. 
> 
> THANKS to come to all of the beautiful babies who supported this fic. You know who you are, and I love you dearly. Thank you for every edit and soundboard. <3

“—Ronan Farrow.”

There was a mouth, and the owner of the mouth also had a nose and eyes and chin. They were all unremarkable on their own, but together, he was like some eldritch creature that altered Lovett’s brain; he wasn’t able to hold the entire picture of him at once. His eyes lost focus.

The other man’s eyebrows drew up and a dimple appeared on his chin before he sorted himself out and his expression resolved into polite disinterest. “Never mind. I apologize for interrupting,” he said, and dropped his outstretched hand, starting to turn. 

“Wait,” Lovett blurted, “you weren’t. I mean, I wasn’t doing jack shit, except being an ass, I guess.”

“Oh,” Ronan said, brightening and standing a little straighter. He was, Lovett realized, very striking. It was probably why his brain had had to do a hard reboot. He shouldn’t look so pleased when someone like Lovett gave him the bare minimum of attention. 

“I’m Jon Lovett. You can call me Lovett.”   
  
“Lovett,” Ronan repeated. “Nice to meet you.” 

“Sorry, I was lost in my own head for a minute. My brain’s a little fried. I must have looked like an idiot just staring right through you.” 

“I just assumed that as a minion of the president, you were too cool to talk to me.” 

“Ex minion,” Lovett said. It doesn't feel true, yet, but he’s got a plane ticket. “Sorry, there’s too much party in this apartment.”

“Would you like to step outside with me?” Ronan Farrow said. 

“Nah, I don’t want to be rude. I mean. My roommate made me come to this thing. Theoretically we’re supposed to be wishing  _ somebody  _ well, but I tuned it out on principal because I was mortally offended that he scheduled someone else’s going away party after mine.” 

“Oh,” Ronan says. “If it’s offending the guest of honor you’re worried about, you should definitely get out of here with me.”

“Who is it?” Lovett asked.

“Just some guy,” Ronan said, smirking. It was kind of mean, and Lovett was, counterintuitively, a lot into it. “Not sure why he and Tommy get along, because he’s kind of a try-hard know it all. Plus, he’s terrible at being gay in DC, and now he thinks moving into a different pond will make him better at being a fish.”

“It’s not as easy as it looks,” Lovett said, trying to keep his voice light, thinking that perhaps Tommy had a soft spot for try-hard know it alls that were bad at being gay in DC. 

“Oh, I know,” Ronan said, flushing. 

With his blood all rucked up, he looked human, blotchy. If he’d been on the fence before, Lovett was decided now. He took Ronan’s hand. “Yeah, let’s get out of here.” 

*

Lovett had assumed they’d walk, or take a cab. Lovett was not ready to strike out with Ronan by showing him his scooter. He was leaving in two days; he could keep his own strangeness at bay long enough to be someone Ronan remembered fondly when Lovett was in LA. Instead, Ronan said, “Do you mind if I drive?” and led him to a car that was sleek but not flashy. Nondescript. 

Lovett scrambled into the front seat. “Seat belt,” Ronan said, like Lovett was a child, which was endearing. Lovett pictured him flinging out his arm at red lights. 

_ Where are we going? _ Lovett wanted to ask, but there was something thrilling about Ronan in his car, competent and looking faintly bemused, sliding onto the DC streets. It was late, and the traffic was waning. There had been no discussion about where to go, so half of him assumed they were going to Ronan’s. 

Ronan thumbed at his dashboard without looking away from the road, moving through his first three presets until he landed on a station that was playing a string quartet version of  _ Mr. Tambourine Man _ . Somehow, a cello soundtrack seemed to make him even more handsome. 

He looked relaxed and focused. He hummed along, and then hummed along to a second song that Lovett didn’t recognize, because he was admittedly not that great at consuming music. 

They did not go to Ronan’s. Four songs Lovett did not recognize later, Ronan was sliding into a parking garage. Lovett was thrown, briefly, into deja vu of his single dating experience in high school, where he’d done a significant amount of discrete makeouts in parking garages and had not spent a significant amount of time getting flirted with, but then Ronan got out of the car. He left his suit jacket draped across his backseat, which put he and Lovett back onto the same dress code ballpark. 

“Thanks,” Lovett said. “What are we doing.”

“You said there was too much party,” Ronan said. “When I feel like there’s too much party, this is where I come to think.”

_ That’s such a line,  _ Lovett thought, but strangely, coming from Ronan, it didn’t seem like one. 

“Come on,” Ronan said, reaching backwards to catch Lovett’s hand—practical, incidental, urging him on. The marcation for the fifth floor of the parking garage was a stingray. 

“We’re at an aquarium,” Lovett said, which was suddenly obvious. “This cannot possibly be open.” 

“We’re not at  _ an  _ aquarium. We’re at the best aquarium within the beltway. And it isn’t, but. Um.” 

“Is that a competitive category? Are we awash with aquariums?”

“You’re laughing, but the honest answer is yes, although to be completely transparent, I’ll settle for anything. I once had a nervous breakdown and pulled into the nearest Petco to look at the goldfish, and that got the job done. I like this one though. There’s a penguin I named here.” 

“A penguin you named. Okay, I’ll bite. What do you call your cross-species child?” 

“Meeting my penguin son is usually a fourth date activity, but I know we’ve got an expedited schedule because you’re leaving in two days.”

Ronan let them in, using a brass key and then punching a number in a keypad, disarming an alarm inside the front door. Inside, the lighting was minimal; blue tracks down paths lead deeper into the aquarium, and the water was illuminated from below. It was serenely quiet. 

“Penguin child support get you that kind of access?” Lovett asked, sidestepping the fact that Ronan had called this strange activity a date. He felt unlike himself, as if the fact that he was leaving DC behind also freed him to leave behind the awkward Lovett, the terrible anxious version of him that never went on dates. He thought of the other man leaving DC, the one Ronan described at being bad at being gay here and felt a pang of a missed connection with a kindred spirit. 

“Not to be crass,” Ronan said, which delighted Lovett to the tips of his ears, “but there’s also probably some family stuff at play besides the penguin money.”

“Okay,” Lovett said. He wondered if Ronan was going pink again. He was strangely lit, angles akimbo. Lovett, who had already given himself permission to act like he was using a burner identity, said, “show me where a man is supposed to think here.” 

*

Ronan had a lot to say. At first, it was like he was giving a practiced tour, just overflowing with esoteric aquarium information, which Lovett found delightful. It was nice to see someone be wholeheartedly enthusiastic about something, anything, and the subject matter was endearing. 

“This is Ralphie,” he told Lovett at one point, introducing him to an octopus like he was introducing him to a friend. “Ralphie, this is Lovett. Ralphie is too smart for his own good. If I ever get stumped when I’m writing, I give myself fifteen minutes to make something for him.”

“Such as,” Lovett said, raising an eyebrow. Ronan did not need a lot of prodding. He seemed like someone who was full of flow charts and had been waiting a long time for someone who cared to interject the arrows. Lovett could certainly relate. 

“Oh, anything that might take him a while to take apart or figure out. I made him a PVC pipe maze once. He’s like a dog that gets destructive when bored, except instead of just chewing up a pair of shoes, Ralphie can get himself out of his cage and seems to have a rudimentary idea of the value of the electronics in this room and how to prioritize what to ruin accordingly.” 

“Interesting,” Lovett said, meaning it. 

Later, the conversation took other, non-aquatic turns. Lovett told him about the parts of speechwriting he’d miss, and the parts he wouldn’t. Ronan told him about the time he met Mister Rogers by chance, at an event his mother had brought him to. He asked Lovett if he was a dog person, and Lovett said, with the knowledge that he was unlikely to see Ronan again after the next forty eight hours, “Yeah, for sure. I used to practice giving bad news to my parents with my dog growing up. I always hoped they’d just overhear the practice run and it would be over with. Or if she was a real friend, she’d gossip about me. She could tell my mom that I failed high school biology and I could be done with it.” 

They sat down in front of the nurse sharks. Lovett felt transfixed, the whole tank teeming with flickering life, entire ecologies moving in silence. He could see why Ronan felt like this was the place to come when you were too soaked in ambient noise. “This is really — ” he swallowed back the word _lovely,_ to which his traitorous brain briefly objected as _too gay._ He course corrected. “I can see how this would help a man think.”

Ronan was sitting close to him, close enough that Lovett could feel the warmth of him through his long-sleeved shirt. They were both looking in the same direction, which always made Lovett feel safe to talk, away from the humiliating scrutiny of eye contact. It remind him of being in high school and always coming out in a moving car, his eyes on the dashboard. 

“I love this place,” he said. “I think if my political ambitions don’t pan out, I’ll find myself a super touchable zoo or aquarium and do tours.”

“You’re passionate,” Lovett concurred, and didn’t say the other thing he was thinking, which was that it seemed like it might be a waste of his journalism career, or his political ambitions. Having been given the tour, he knew that it wouldn’t be. He could picture it, small children for whom enthusiasm is catching, following Ronan like some kind of piper. 

“I’m too much,” he said, “for most people.” 

Lovett looked at him and couldn’t picture him striking out. He was young and smart with a face like an Italian sports car. Lovett moved towards him, his whole body tilting until his shoulder bumped against Ronan’s and didn’t move it away. “You’ve got a unique brain. It’s like a soft-shell turtle.” Lovett said. “And not to sound like a terribly condescending thirty year old, but you’re in the prime of your life; you’re going to find the people who think that’s fantastic.” 

“I love soft-shelled turtles,” Ronan said. 

“I know,” Lovett laughed. “You apologized fifteen hundred times that none of them were awake.”

They sat in the dark. Lovett wanted to reach out and take Ronan’s hand, but instead, he just thought about it, pathetically and intently until Ronan read his mind and took his hand instead. Lovett’s lower half was going numb from sitting on the floor with Ronan, their backs against the hallway wall while they stared into the depths of the flickering water. 

Ronan interlocked their fingers, holding Lovett’s hand palm-side up so that his other hand could drag against his fingertips. “Is this okay?” he asked, as if Lovett wasn’t desperate for his touch, as if the simple intimacy hadn’t made the rushing in his brain go quiet. 

“Yeah,” Lovett said. “This is okay.”

*

There came a point where it seemed to Lovett that the obvious next step was to leave the aquarium, but then there was a big question mark after that. Ronan set the alarm at the front desk and tugged Lovett outside, explaining that they only had thirty seconds to leave out the front door. 

Lovett’s apartment was cluttered with stacks of boxes that professionals would pack up and drive from coast to coast, his whole life casually contained in one trip. Some of the boxes he had had second thoughts about, reopening them and pulling their contents back out. 

It was not Lovett’s first choice in terms of locations to bring Ronan Farrow, whom Lovett had wilfully observed himself building giddiness over, creating the kind of intense, short-term crush that wouldn’t last, but which would make sex with him incredible. Lovett would invite him into his mess if it came to it — if Ronan wasn’t going to invite him into his. 

It seemed obvious that they’d be headed to the same place, and Lovett wondered if maybe Ronan was waiting for Lovett to make a move. They couldn’t both be waiting. “Hey,” Ronan said, and Lovett thought:  _ yes,  _ sight unseen. 

“Do you, maybe want,” Ronan said, a single sentence that spanned an hour, “to get a waffle with me?” 

Lovett was not, in general, a fan of multi-stop dates. They usually signalled something to him, the kind of person who was probably deeply incompatible with him, a pretentious DC queerness that seemed at once sanitized and showy. 

Yet Ronan’s hand was warm in his, and there was nothing he wanted more. 

And to be fair, Lovett did love waffles. 

They ended up at Lovett’s, after. Perhaps he had not been at his most charming, but being so close to his last night in DC made him brave enough to open the front door and kick aside all sorts of unsorted nonsense that Lovett was beginning to be honest with himself about. He was probably going to leave a lot of things for Tommy to deal with, which was probably fair because he had blessed Tommy with the gift of his companionship for years. 

The kitchen was a mess, less because Lovett was still trying to figure out what belonged to him in there and more because he had figured it out, and the answer was: not much. 

Anyways. Lovett did have a bottle of wine, and  _ Tommy  _ wasn’t moving, so the bottle opener hadn’t been boxed away. Come to think of it, the wine was probably also Tommy’s, but because Tommy cared greatly about Lovett and his needs, it was likely safe to help himself. 

Ronan squinted at it. At some point, he had excused himself to the bathroom and reemerged wearing glasses.  

Ronan moved towards him like he wasn’t sure, and Lovett felt the ridiculous impulse to rake up some of the manic energy he sometimes harnessed to say  _ please like me.  _ Except they were already here. Ronan had taken his contacts off, made himself comfortable in his own house. It was intimate. He must — to some extent — 

While Lovett tied himself in knots, Ronan came back to sit on the couch with him, turning sideways and putting his knee against Lovett’s thigh. Which. Okay. 

Lovett looked at him, really looked at him, not lit by the strange luminosity of the aquarium or the harsh overhead fluorescent of the Waffle House, but in his own home. He was struck by the planes of his face, the warmth of his proximity. 

Lovett felt as if he’d wanted Ronan for so long instead of just hours. 

He leaned in and Ronan did not move away, so Lovett pressed his mouth against him. Ronan moved at the last second, and their mouths bumped, awkwardly. “Sorry,” Ronan said, leaning in again. This time, the landing was solid, and Lovett sighed into it. Ronan moved against him, liquid, until he was close, against Lovett’s chest. 

Lovett went to stroke his stomach, under the hem of his shirt. Ronan made a restless noise. “Yeah?” Lovett breathed. 

“Mmmh,” Ronan mumbled against his mouth, but redirected Lovett’s hands to his hip. 

“Okay,” Lovett said, mouth quirking. 

“Not really a first date kind of guy,” Ronan said. 

“You want me to stop?” Lovett said. “I, ah, I’ve packed my playstation but Tommy has —” 

“No,” Ronan said. “Not… yet?” 

“Alright,” Lovett said, and reached for him again to pull him close. “Scream if you want to get off the ride.” 

Ronan cupped his face, pulling him back in. They kissed muzzily for a long time, until Ronan jolted and Lovett realized he’d been slipping into sleep. “Sorry,” Ronan said, and even while he was apologizing, his eyes went out of focus. 

“To be fair,” Lovett said, “If you had a regular workday today, you’re probably coming up on twenty four hours.” By the time Lovett was done talking, Ronan looked most of the way asleep again, but then he jolted. 

“Yes,” he said, sheepish, “sorry. I should probably go.”

“You’re in no shape to drive,” Lovett said. “Stay here. I’ll go sleep in Cody’s bed. He’s on a trip.”

Ronan’s eyes fell shut, but he groped blind for Lovett to pull him in. “Okay,” he agreed, affable, because he’s a man who loves a good compromise. 

He loves a good bout of physical closeness, too, even though he’s prone to finding himself on the opposite end of the bed within a few hours, overheating. In the beginning, though, while it’s wakeful, intentional, he can see the appeal of letting a man put his face in the warm stretch of Lovett’s neck. 

“Yeah,” Ronan sighed, when Lovett put a hand inside of his shirt to stroke the length of his warm back, and cuddled close. As far as Lovett could tell, he was asleep almost immediately, but Lovett kept stroking his back, neck, sides for a long time, feeling content and swaddled. 

*

In the morning, Ronan was putting on a button down shirt. Lovett woke up to a pleasant sight, Ronan baring his forearms. 

“You getting out of here?” Lovett asked. Lovett felt warm and silly, like last night hadn’t been some parallel universe-dream. 

Ronan dropped back down to Lovett’s mattress, set right on the floor, his frame disassembled into a pile by the door. “Yeah,” he said, leaning down to peck a sheepish kiss against Lovett’s mouth. “I need a ride, actually.”

Lovett raised an eyebrow. “You did drive us here.” 

“Okay,” Ronan said. “Amendment: I need to drive somewhere and I’m hoping you’ll come.” 

“That’s a man who needs an alibi if I’ve ever heard one,” Lovett said. He did a full body scooch towards the edge of the bed and squinted at the time. Ronan was far too well put together for someone who had only settled down to bed a few hours ago. The morning light suited him, as did his jeans. He looked casual and touchable and Lovett pictured himself saying  _ it’s not our first date anymore  _ and tugging him into bed, but Lovett did not need to be stung twice. 

“Just company,” Ronan said. 

“No Crimes, Just Company sounds like a high school ska band.”

“That sounds like a yes,” Ronan said, grinning.  

Lovett hauled himself out of bed. “Twist my arm.”  __

Lovett left the house in a pair of sweats, rebelliously, but then regretted it in Ronan’s passenger seat. He’d been churlishly thinking that Ronan could not have expected him to be attractive or well groomed on the short notice of  _ hey hop out of bed and drive with me  _ but sitting there, he wished he’d thought that impulse all the way through. 

“Hey, Ronan,” Lovett said. “It seems like you just got off on the DCA exit.”

Ronan went pink. “Will you take my car back to Tommy’s?” 

“What!” Lovett yelped. 

“Sorry. I wanted to tell you all night.”

“You blew off your own damn going away party?” 

Ronan looked sheepish. “In a sense.”

“In what sense?!” Lovett demanded. “Because it seems like you left your own going away party in a very literal sense.”

“I’ve said goodbye to everyone I’m going to miss,” Ronan said. “And Tommy — he’s been telling me I should meet you for ages.”

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” Lovett said. He certainly hadn’t had enough sleep for this. 

“Sorry,” Ronan said. 

Lovett took a deep breath. “You shouldn’t be. I’m just cranky and underslept. I had a better date last night than I have in years. It was a great goodbye present from, I don’t know, DC or the universe or whatever.” 

“Oh, hey,” Ronan said, smiling, “me too.” 

“So where are you headed?”

“Oxford.”

“And, wait, you spent the night at my place. How the fuck are you ready to leave?”

“I have a nine o’clock flight. All of my stuff is already in storage.”

“Of course all of your stuff was already in storage,” Lovett said, rolling his eyes. “And what about your car?” 

“Oh. Um. Tommy is going to deal with it,” Ronan said. He’d pulled in to the drop-off loop. There were clinging couples and teary dads thick on the ground. Lovett tried not to look at them. 

“When did you have time to — ”

“We went for a run this morning,” Ronan said. 

“What the fuck. We just went to bed!” 

“I get anxious,” Ronan frowned, as if that explained everything. Lovett also got anxious but it did not manifest into bursts of underslept productivity.  

The circling patrol car gave them a warning beep and Ronan threw his door open. Lovett leaned over and kissed his mouth. Ronan made a surprised sound. “I don’t know what you’re going to do in England.”

“I’m going to acquire a doctorate,” Ronan said, serious. 

“I meant when you need to hit an aquarium.”

“There’s usually something. Bugs will also do in a pinch. Maybe I’ll start an ant farm.”

Someone behind them honked again. Lovett scrambled out of the car, to trade seats with Ronan. Ronan collected his duffle bag from the backseat and hefted it over his shoulder. 

Ronan looked at Lovett. Lovett looked at Ronan. “Have a,” he said, and faltered. “Good flight.”

“You should hit me up sometime,” Ronan said. He looked unsure, but tentatively hopeful. Lovett wanted to kiss him again. Instead, he clapped his shoulder. 

“You bet,” he said. “Go knock ‘em dead.”

And then he was gone, and Lovett was alone, and then Lovett was  _ driving his car back to his apartment for his roommate to deal with  _ and what even was his life. 

*

Two days later, Lovett is leaving for LA. In the meantime, he has a chance to debrief with Tommy. His main questions were  _ what the fuck  _ related. 

“To be clear,” Tommy had said. “I did invite you out so many times. I seem to recall even telling you that you’d really like my friend from State.”

“ _ Friend from State, _ ” Lovett had practically squawked. “How was I supposed to know that your friend from state was an interesting weirdo and not just the only other gay person you know?” Lovett demanded. 

“Serves you right,” Tommy said. “Next time you’ll trust me, even if we’re meeting at a boring straight bar.”

“I will never change,” Lovett assured him. 

He spent one more day procrastinating until Tommy and Cody staged an intervention and packed up the rest of his room. Favreau came by with a bagel and a coffee for him before he left for the airport. 

It was a busy few days. Lovett thought about it, fleetingly, and then shied away from the urge to send him a text every few hours like clockwork, and then he was moving into his place in LA, which is to say, he arrived and then the boxes arrived and Lovett pretended not to notice. 

By the time it occurred to him that Ronan wouldn’t be able to use his american phone number, which he’d planned on getting from Tommy, it had been two weeks. 

_ Everyone uses whatsapp now,  _ Tommy said when Lovett finally asked. 

After some deliberation, Lovett sent a photo he had taken, a weird little alien fish he’d seen on a billboard that was advertising for allergy medicine.  _ Saw this and thought of you,  _ he said. 

By the end of the week, Lovett had acquired a practically pavlovian endorphin response to the sound of the WhatsApp notification.

*

The first time, Lovett was kind of tipsy. Before then, it had been frequent, boisterous conversation, He’d wanted to, sober, of course, but intoxicated, it had felt natural to say  _ wise I’d had one more night with you in DC.  _

When Ronan had replied,  _ Just one?  _ Lovett had amended.  _ No, but idt be a start.  _

_ Me too,  _ Ronan had said.  _ Ronan  _ wasn’t tipsy, because it was morning for him. 

_ Was looking at your instagram and went cross eyed,  _ Lovett said. 

_ I’m like a basilisk,  _ Ronan said.  _ Can’t look directly at me.  _

_ Stupid,  _ Lovett said.  _ a dumb joke. i want it struck from the record. you’re so damn hot, god, I want to put my mouth on your collar bones.  _

Lovett had held his breath, wondering if he’d gone too far; there was no obscurity there, nowhere to hide. 

_ I want you to,  _ Ronan said, and Lovett let out a breath. 

_ * _

Sometimes it was ,  _ — hold your hips down and mouth at your —  _

_ — god, you look so good like that; I want to hold you down and grind off against your hip —  _

_ — no stone unturned. Palming at the small of your back and all of the intimate spaces, want to —  _

Often, —  _ lovely and wild and hilarious. God, I just want to nap on your chest like a cat, be able to feel you breathing out and breathing in, keep track of you without a phone and —  _

_ * _

_ Wish I could put my hands under your shirt. It’s been raining for three weeks and I’m pretty sure I’m never going to be warm again.  _ Ronan said, sometime after 3 AM, roughly a week until Ronan was due to be stateside for long enough to see Lovett. He’d made one visit, a brief emergency that had him arriving and leaving the farm on the same day. 

_ My warm stomach is your warm stomach,  _ Lovett replied, about five hours later when he woke up. 

_ I love our communal stomach,  _ Ronan said immediately. A lot of times, Lovett would think the hour was too insane, with the eight-hour time difference, and then he would get a response while his phone was still in his hand. 

The three dots remained at the bottom of the screen for a long time.  _ I need to tell you something before I get to California.  _

There was something in Lovett’s throat, suddenly.  _ Is this a talk I should sit down for?  _ he sent, and then tapped out a second text:  _ Should I call you? _

_ I have a feeling we will both want to reread the conversation before I get to the airport.  _ Ronan sent.  _ We can talk after if there are follow up questions. Does that work for you? _

_ Yeah, this seems like impending danger, ten days before you’re in town,  _ Lovett tapped out. His pulse had skyrocketed. Pundit pushed her perfect head into his palm, trying to knock the phone out of his hand. 

_ That’s what I wanted to talk to you about! But don’t panic!  _

_ Too late for that one, bud.  _

_ I want to assure you that it’s not a we-need-to-talk talk, but you might be pissed.  _

_ What the fuck Ronan. Did you… ?  _ It seemed like a full enough question. He shot off another one:  _ Did you sleep with someone?  _

Pundit was marching up and down the bed, whining deep in her chest. She jumped off the bed then back up to paw at his chest, the usual stops to let him know that it was time to tend to her outdoor needs. Lovett looked at the three dots in anguish and made a decision. 

“Outside, outside,” he chanted, in a voice that made Pundit spasm with joy, and left his phone on his pillow. 

The thing was, he thought, miserable and barefoot in his front yard, that he’d opened the door for Ronan to have sex with other people. It wasn’t Lovett’s favorite idea, but he’d been on an SSRI for a lot of his adult life. He was used to being the low-libido partner. The trade off was worth it, being able to function and brush his teeth, to make plans and make friends. 

But — when they’d had that conversation, Ronan had said he was not interested. Vehemently. They’d agreed that they weren’t having sex with other people, which Lovett hadn’t even  _ told  _ his gay friends because they would have laughed for three hours if he’d told him he’d gone exclusive with someone he’d never even had sex with, who didn’t live in the same country, after one date and a few months of intense texting. There had been a statistically improbable number of sexts in that time, but Lovett wasn’t counting. 

The point was, had Ronan taken him up on the offer then, he wouldn’t have to feel like this, like there was a brick lodged in his throat. He’d feel something, for sure, but having had the discussion, it wasn’t  _ being open,  _ it was  _ cheating.  _ Lovett had the urge to rip something with his teeth. 

“Fuck,” he said, sharply. His neighbor, getting her own mail in her slippers, jumped, startled. “Sorry,” he called, loudly, but then continued in a deranged grumble under his breath. “My boyfriend probably cheated on me abroad, and now I have to dump him on principal before I get a chance to suck his cock even once.”

Pundit, who did not love him, not even a little bit, refused to even give him one soulful look. 

Avoiding the inevitable moment where he had to look at his phone, Lovett took her on more walk than he otherwise would have barefoot at eight AM. The first thing in the morning walk was typically a  _ let’s get down to business  _ affair. Now, he let her sniff a meandering path across the front yard. 

Eventually, mutineer that she was, she led Lovett back inside, and Lovett felt his fingernails dig trenches in his palms as he returned to his bed in the slowest possible way. 

“Alright,” he told her, and took the plunge. “Time to...”

When Lovett unlocked his phone, there was a long stack of alerts. He read a few out of order before he forced himself to open the text chain and start from the top. 

_ No?  _

_ Of course not. We talked about that.  _

_ Although  _

_ That has something to do with it? Sort of? _

_ I mean. Sorry. I know I’m spamming you but I want to get it out and I don’t want you to hate me. And keep jumping the _

_ gun _

_ Sorry, this is no time for jokes. The point is, I wanted to let you know that I love talking to you and texting, but I worry that I may have misrepresented my desire to have sex with the frequency of my engagement in sexting.  _

_ Lovett you never let me talk this long.  _

_ Or, at least by now I should have seen the … of you flailing on your keyboard and deleting to let me know you’re still reading. Have you had a stroke.  _

_ Sorry,  _ Lovett tapped out as soon as he got to the most recent message. Ronan was still typing, but Lovett hoped he would yield the floor.  _ I’m here. I just had to take Pundit out for a quick one. _

_ And your phone was chained to the bank teller’s desk like a pen? _

_ I SAID I WAS SORRY,  _ Lovett said, and added an emoji with a mouth a man could catch flies in.  _ Can I call you?  _

_ Are you going to be mean to me?  _ Ronan said. It was objectively a dorky thing to say. Lovett touched his chest and made a soft noise. He could not have dialed any faster.

“Hey, you big stupid weirdo,” Lovett said, when he answered. 

“Charming,” Ronan said. 

“You just let a phone I knew you were holding ring three times.” Lovett said. 

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t sure I was going to answer,” Ronan said. “Because I... ”

“Because you were afraid your long distance boyfriend was going to  _ be mean  _ to you, which is, frankly, ridiculous.”

“I’m definitely not getting bullied now.”

“You’re definitely not,” Lovett said, and then fell quiet. “Come sit with me.” 

“I’m sitting,” Ronan said. “I also have a self-pity snack.”

“I doubt it,” Lovett said. “A proper self-pity snack is, like, a waffle and a spoonful of peanut butter and a donut.”

“A proper self-pity snack is … three snacks?” Ronan clarified. 

“At least,” Lovett said. His chest was tight. It was only the fact that Ronan has said  _ be mean to me,  _ which was objectively a very dorky and sad thing to have said, that had triggered the override in Lovett, made him feel protective and not defensive. “Now. Let’s talk about your issue. Let’s start with a goal in mind. Do you want to break up or come to an understanding?”

Ronan groaned. “You’re so hot when you’re being a master of communication.”

“My boyfriend lives in England. It’s a tough job, but somebody’s got to do it.”

On the other end of the line, Ronan was quiet. Lovett let him be for a few minutes while he rummaged around, getting himself a diet coke. “Okay. So walk me through the crisis. You’re letting me know that you want to come visit, but you don’t … want to fuck me. Or for me to fuck you? Is that, um, a good summary of the situation.” 

“Yes,” Ronan croaked. “But in the best possible way. Where I think you’re the bee’s knees.”

“But you’re not attracted to me,” Lovett hazarded, which was more painful to say than it was to wonder about. 

“No, I am! In theory. I like you a lot. You’re very handsome. I just have … ”

_ Trauma,  _ Lovett thought.  _ Erectile dysfunction.  _ He stayed supportively silent. 

“Ugh, I hate this.”

“It is not too late to ghost me,” Lovett said, but the joke didn’t land. It felt like a too large possibility, like Ronan might say,  _ oh, now that you mention it.  _

“I might be asexual?” Ronan blurted. “And I’m sorry I didn’t — put that on my disclosure form, so to speak.”

“You might be?” Lovett said. 

“I don’t know. Historically… I don’t have a lot of dating history, and I was too young at basically all points of my education to have had a chance to experiment. Damn it, I wish I could see your face for this conversation.”

Lovett considered video chatting with him, but then thought about what he’d like more: getting a chance to talk to Ronan on his couch, holding his hand and nuzzle into his neck. He’d done that much before. “Okay. A rain check,” Lovett said. 

*

Circling the LAX airport whipped up Lovett’s nerves. He was excited. He was in agony. His pulse was all wrong and a dumb, mean inner voice kept jeering at him that Ronan didn’t want to fuck him. 

“He does want to come see me,” Lovett said, alone in his car, like a man unhinged. It wasn’t nothing. 

Lovett should have parked, he realized. He should have parked and been ready to greet Ronan, pick him up in a hug, instead of being trapped behind a steering wheel. He didn’t have time to panic about it. He circled again, and saw him. 

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” Ronan said, launching himself into the front seat. 

“That’s my line,” Lovett said, looking fondly at him. 

“I look like I could use a nap,” Ronan said. 

“Couldn’t we all,” Lovett said, but he handed Ronan a bottle of water and  a CVS bag. 

“Oh my God, how did you know,” Ronan said, fishing out salsa sunchips and makeup wipes, and peering into the rest of the bag. 

“Oh, I don’t know,” Lovett grinned, rolling his eyes. “More or less constant conversation for six months will clue a man into your fresh off the plane preferences.”

“I love you,” Ronan sighed, peeling the bag open. 

Lovett tapped the breaks, and regained composure. “Oh. Um.”

“Sorry! Wow sorry, that was… not appropriate,” Ronan said. 

“No,” Lovett rushed. “That’s um. Good. Fine! It’s good news, I’m living in a mysterious good place timeline. I mean, if I’d known one bag of crisps after an international flight was all it takes, my youthful dating would have been much more fulfilling.”

“It isn’t the — don’t say crisps, by the way — you dipstick.”

The  _ hey I still have to explain that I don’t want to have sex with you  _ conversation was still coming. Lovett didn’t know what he was going to do with that, but he did reach across to touch Ronan’s hand, thumb brushing over his knuckles. “I’m glad. I’m happy,” he said, which didn’t really cover it. 

*

Lovett postponed their talk by stopping for tacos, which was self-serving. If things were going to go wrong, he was happy to linger in the hour in between, looking at Ronan, lovely and rumpled, over piping hot carne asada, eating the radish slices by themselves. Lingering in the fact that Ronan had said  _ I love you  _ with a sunchip in his hand. 

“This was a good idea,” Ronan said. 

Lovett preened under the weight of being confronted with his primary love language, which was being told that his opinions were objectively correct. The last time he had seen Ronan in person, he had been dropping him off at the DC airport. They hadn’t been — boyfriends, then. 

The novelty was incredible. 

“All of my ideas are good,” Lovett said. “Case in point, my beautiful sold script on the first attempt.” 

He leaned back, revelling in getting to look at him.

*

When they got back to Lovett’s place, Ronan moved to kiss him just inside the threshold. 

“Yes,” Lovett encouraged, pulling Ronan against him. “But.”

“Not good improv,” Ronan said, right against Lovett’s mouth. 

“Yes, but we need — I can’t, you already told me you don’t want —” 

“Oh,” Ronan said, disentangling himself. Lovett missed his fingers on his shoulders as soon as they were gone. 

“I just, fuck, Ronan. I don’t want you involved in --”

“I like being physical. There are things I want.”

“What kind of things?” Lovett asked. 

Ronan was already pink. “Sex adjacent things, I guess you would call them? We could probably have sex, though. All the things we — talked about.” 

“No, wait. You don’t want to have sex. We covered that.” 

“We could, though,” Ronan said. 

Lovett put his finger over Ronan’s mouth. “That is a revisiting conversation. What do you get out of phone sex?” 

“Your full attention?” Ronan said. He looked like he might spontaneously combust. 

Lovett — he didn’t mean to — Lovett started laughing and could not stop, until he realized Ronan had no idea what he was laughing about and would assume the worst. 

“Sorry,” Lovett said. “That’s. Far and away the best part of sex because I am a needy bitch. You just phrased it just right.”

“I mean. Sometimes I am getting off,” Ronan said. “And sometimes I think I’m interested in doing — things. But it’s a more theoretical getting off, usually. A theoretical interest.”

“But you like — ” Lovett said. 

“Yes, holy shit, yeah. The last two weeks, you weren’t sending me any risque content, and my eyeballs went dry.”

“A very strange expression,” Lovett noted. 

“Can we — can I kiss you now? I’d really like to do that.” 

*

Then, it was back to 

_ — scratch down your back —  _

_ — swallow you down and pin you, squirming and helpless —  _

_ — go down on you until you cry —  _

_ — fuck, Lovett —  _

_ — fuck, Ronan — _

when Lovett and Ronan were far, and kissing and groping when they were close, and Ronan in his pocket, accessible, all the while. 

*

“I was thinking about you the other day. You know, Hanna was out of town and it was miserable. I don’t know how you do it. But reunion sex. Can’t beat it, right?” 

“Oh. That’s not really our style,” Lovett said, amused. 

“Not… into reunion sex with your long distance boyfriend?” Tommy inquired, forehead wrinkling. 

Lovett could feel an opportunity for some very good shock value, and couldn’t stop himself. “Not really into sex.”

“Not at all?” Tommy asked. He sounded almost comically shocked.  “Sorry! Um, I mean. No, shit, that’s what I meant to say.”

Lovett looked bashfully down at his dinner. He didn’t subscribe to Blue Apron, because for the most part he lived alone, but they sent him a complementary box for two and instead of splitting the meals with Pundit,  _ I am Legend  _ style, or choosing between the equally terrible options of eating dinner for two by himself and packaging up half for lunch the next day, he opted to invite Tommy over. Which might have been a mistake. “Not never. Just not often. Usually not  —  _ in person?  _ And not in the  _ no shit you live on different coasts  _ way.” 

“Holy shit.” Tommy said. He was grinning at Lovett, too gleeful by half. He looked like a deranged haunted doll. 

“It’s not a big deal. Everything about him is perfect and he’s, well. He’s by far the hottest guy I’ve ever dated.” 

“Sorry, right, yeah. Of course, you know what works for you.” There was wine, too, which was probably why that information slipped out. Tommy swished his glass around, and Lovett watched the liquid inside slosh dangerously close to the rim. 

“I love him,” Lovett said, which was a stupid, soft thing to say. He regretted it immediately and went to course correct. “Anyways. We’re both writers and skilled at auditory performance. I’ve been told I’m electric in  _ any  _ medium.” 

“Oh my God,” Tommy said, letting out a sharp bark of laughter. Pundit admonished him for being so loud from her perch on top of his feet with a disdainful look. “You have to share.”

Lovett scoffed. “You couldn’t handle one sentence of a Farrow-Lovett sext. Your face would melt off,  _ Raiders of the Lost Arc _ style. Now eat your dinner or I’m going to give it to my perfect angel.” 

“I can multitask,” Tommy said, spearing a grilled turnip. “And now I have questions.”

“We’ve managed to go this long without talking about my sex life,” Lovett said. “Why break the streak?”

“Bullshit,” Tommy grinned. “When we lived in DC I had to hear the rundown of every idiot in the city. Not to mention that time I walked in on —” 

“Nope, shh, no, remember I have been absolved of all DC sins. I am a  _ new man.” _

* 

There were fifty-five hundred words in his inbox when he woke up, slightly hungover from he and Tommy’s wine and dine adventure from the night before.  

“You beautiful renegade,” Lovett muttered to himself. He’d opened the document, which he’d assumed was a new chapter, but he’d realized that it wasn’t before he’d completely finished the first sentence. 

_ I have to save this for later,  _ Lovett texted him.  _ You bastard. _

_ I love you!!!  _ Ronan shot back immediately, with a little string of charming emojis, mostly heart eyed blobs and a few of his unique favorites, the little alien and the chef with the spoon.

_ I have to work,  _ Lovett groused.  _ And all the while I’ve got a document titled “in defense of democracy: the millennial remix” sitting on my drive. _

_ You’re your own boss,  _ Ronan said.  _ The captain of your fate. Stay home and have a lazy read and a sick day. _

_ I would, but if I tell Thomas that I’m too sick to go in, he might stop by with soup.  _ Lovett was convincing himself at the same time, and he made the decision to step into the pair of maroon pants that he didn’t wear yesterday, wincing at the thought of Tommy coming to check on him and finding his hand around his cock.

_ It’s not written in invisible ink. It’ll keep. _

_ I peeked at the end,  _ Lovett said, adding the little eyes.

_ Ha!  _ Ronan texted back. Lovett could hear him laughing.

He opened the document at work, at his own desk with his phone placed discretely near his keyboard, but Erin stood too close once and Lovett got paranoid that somehow she knew. He tabbed away right when the story got juicy, his heart hammering and his blood hot in his ears.

He gave up, after that, and put in the effort to make it through the day. When he got home, he texted Ronan on his way through the door.  _ Erotica and chill. _

Ronan texted him back, a photo of himself, still buttoned to the neck.  _ The person you have dialed is currently working,  _ he typed. The three dots hovered.  _ I did take some other images earlier. _

_ Of course you did,  _ Lovett replied, with a string of truly affectionate emojis.  _ Aces in charge of erotica 2k19. _

_ Generic.  _ Ronan said.

  
_ My ace boyfriend,  _ Lovett corrected,  _ in charge of my erotic experiences, 2k19.  _

 


End file.
